Something Very, Very Wonderful
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: [MacStella] Mac Taylor was good at reading Stella Bonasera Stella Bonasera was equally good, if not better, at reading him. Postep for 01.17 The Fall.


Title: Something Very, Very Wonderful

Author: Peach

Rating: PG

Category: Angst, Fluff, Romance

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Don't sue please

Spoilers: 01.17 The Fall

A/N: I guess this would make it official then. It seems like I'm on a mission to write a post-ep to bring Mac and Stella together for each episodes… albeit them being a little… late. Hey, it'd be a good project. grin

A/N 2: Okay, this is, what, a month overdue? The re-run's coming and it's almost caught up with this... well, my life had been hectic and I have some very idiotic professors making us do stupid assignments (I mean, who in university would as you to write a paper WITHOUT INTRODUCTION NOR CONCLUSION for 10 pages?) Also, this episode was a little more difficult than the other ones. Yes, they worked together, but there wasn't exactly a lot of emotions going on here. I had to kind of go on a limp. Anyhow, I hope you guys like it!

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"Mac, I'm gonna head home now," Mac's concentration on his work was interrupted by his partner's announcement. "I'll see you tomorrow in the office, alright?" 

He looked up from the reports that had occupied his time since he returned from Central Booking. The back-log on his desk was, as he liked to put it, all the way to the moon, and he was determined to plough through at least some before he left for the night.

"You alright?" he asked, his concern for his partner masked with the usual calmness of his voice.

She simply shrugged.

"Stella," Mac started, and Detective Stella Bonasera raised a hand to stop him from talking.

"I'm tired, Mac, that's all. I just wanna go home and sleep and deal with whatever it is that we have to tomorrow morning."

Mac tilted his head and looked hard at Stella. She really did look tired, her hairs were an unruly bunch and refused to be tamed. Her eyes had lost their shininess and every move she made lacked the usual energy that radiated around her.

"Do you want to talk?" he blurted out before his brain could process the information and stopped himself. Years ago, before his life was torn apart, those night-time chats were regular occurrences. They would be up until late and talked about anything and everything that came to mind.

Those chats, he remembered fondly, were better cure for his insomnia than all the medicines his doctor had prescribed him. Unfortunately, they had ceased to happen since a hole had been created in his life.

It was not that he didn't want to help his best friend when she was obviously physically and emotionally exhausted, but he was no better himself, and wondered if he could really help.

He watched Stella closely and noticed the sparks in her eyes when she heard his offer. From her posture, he knew she was tempted to take him up on it. Mentally, Mac Taylor prepared himself to the act of revealing personal feelings, something he had not done for years; for some reason, opening up again, even to Stella, made him nervous and uncomfortable.

He was waiting for her acceptance of his offer when she surprised him by denying his invitation.

"I think I'll just go home," she said softly; the sparks he noticed earlier were gone. In their place, he saw, was longing. He knew she had wanted to take him up on his offer; he also knew she saw his internal struggle after his invitation.

Mac Taylor was good at reading Stella Bonasera; Stella Bonasera was equally good, if not better, at reading him.

Wordlessly, Mac watched as his partner for years turned and left, alone.

He wondered what he should be doing. It was obvious that Stella needed a friend – not just any friend, but someone she trusted to let her guard down. He was honoured to be one of the few with that status. He wasn't sure if he had enough energy to support Stella emotionally though. He was equally drained himself, and bringing one of their own down was never easy. 

He tried hard to get his attention back on the reports he had vowed to finish before he left and finally gave up after an hour of being on the same page. The words were swimming in front of his eyes, and all he could think about was how lost Stella looked when she stood in front of him earlier that night.

He needed to get to her. She needed a friend.

He needed to talk to her.

She needed him, just like he needed her.

Throwing the files hastily into briefcase, he grabbed all that he needed and headed to his car.

The route was familiar. Stella didn't own a car, so when they were working late – or when he had stubbornly refused to rest until they cracked the case and Stella had opted to stay to make sure he actually got home and rested – he had driven her home numerous times. He knew his way around, and he navigated through the never-easing New York traffic with ease.

Before he stepped into the complex, he looked up to her apartment. The lights were still on, indicating that she had not turned in yet. He wondered briefly if he should have gotten them both some food. He hadn't eaten the whole day, and knew that Stella wouldn't have either.

It would be hypocritical for Mac to mother her about that, since he threw meals out of the way when he was especially dedicated to his tasks at hands, but it didn't mean he approved of her skipping means.

She was thin enough as she was.

Looking around the neighbourhood and noted the lack of stores around, he knew he didn't want to drive away to get food. He would order in something if they both felt like it. Satisfied with his plans, he turned to her apartment building.

Standing outside her door, Mac listened carefully for any noise of activities. It was quiet, with faint music flowing from the living room. There wasn't much else, and he wondered if he should ring the doorbell or let himself in using his keys.

The decision, however, was taken out of his hands when Stella opened the door with a look of mild amusement, "Were you planning on coming in or would you rather stay outside my apartment?"

"How did you know I am here?" he asked as he moved into her comfortable and homey space.

"I saw you standing outside the building surveying the area; then I saw this shadow under the door. What were you debating outside?" she asked while leading him to her living room and settled on her couch with her mug of tea back in hands.

"Whether I should disrupt your peace," he answered with half-truths and instead, turned to look at her more closely, "How are you feeling, Stella?"

"I'm fine," she looked down at her mug of tea instead of at him.

"You wanted to talk," he said, as a statement and not a question or invitation.

"But you're too exhausted yourself to talk," Stella countered. "If we were to have a heart-to-heart, I'd rather your heart be a little stronger, a little less heavy."

Mac looked at his partner with admiration. She could read him like an open book.

"But you want to talk."

"Mac, you're almost burned out yourself; you need to take care of yourself, and I don't just mean eating and sleeping. Let yourself recuperate. I'll feel better tomorrow morning, so don't worry too much about me."

They were both silent after her soft rebuttal. It sounded odd to his ears: he should be the one worrying about Stella's mental state, not the other way around.

But then, Stella Bonasera always had a big heart, and she always put those she valued before her own well-being.

He loved her sensitivity and passion to others; he wanted to strangle her for always neglecting her own needs.

"You were always there when I needed you," he countered softly to break the silence.

"I was," she didn't deny it. There was no point; it really happened and they had both agreed she was a big part in helping him back on his feet after Claire's funeral.

"Why won't you let me do the same for you?" he inquired.

"I can take care of myself, Mac."

"I could too," he continued his argument, "but that didn't stop you. Come on, Stella, we're partners. Let me do what you did for me."

Stella let out a long sigh. She had given up fighting him on this, he knew, even before she spoke again.

"You want some coffee or something? To get comfortable first? You can loosen your tie, you know."

"I'm fine," he nodded, though he did loosen his tie, and he waited; his eyes never wavering away from hers.

Mac was patient. He knew how Stella Bonasera's mind work, and he knew that opening up to others, including her best friend, was as hard for her as it was for him. So he waited.

Finally, she spoke in a much subdued voice, "I was thinking about my training officer."

"Roth?"

She nodded, "I was watching Flack, the look in his eyes when he had to book Moran himself; the admiration, the respect. Roth was the father I never had. He was there for me through some hard times. When I was in narcotics, I would talk to him regularly, about everything."

"Do you still?"

She shook her head sadly, "He was injured in the line of duty, so now he only consults."

"I'm sorry."

"He calls me Tuts," she smiled with fondness. "I swear, even if I make Sheriff someday, he'll still call me that."

Mac smiled with her. Even though he had an idea of where the conversation would go, he wasn't sure if Stella was really talking about what was bothering her.

They were both quiet. Stella looked like she was in a debate, struggling with whether she should go and talk about the crux of the issues bothering her. Reaching over, Mac picked up the hands from her lap and gently rubbed his thumb over the smooth skin.

"I was thinking about Hector, about how he chose to rebel, about how he got on the wrong side of the law. I was like that once, you know? When I was at St. Basil, I rebelled, so I could get attention. There were just so many kids there that the Sisters had a hard enough time trying to get us all fed and cleaned. There was neither time nor the resources to give us the attention children needed.

"I can't help but wonder if I would turn up like Hector if I had the chance. He probably felt like nobody cared about him. His father could only be there occasionally; his mother had to slave day-in-day-out to make a living to support them. He must have felt so alone. I know that feeling."

Stella paused to take a deep breath after her soliloquy. It wasn't all out yet, her feelings, but she was getting there. The fact that Mac had moved closer to her seemed to have calmed her.

"The need for recognition, for someone to be there, to know that you're hurting, all the needs he had; I felt the same, still do. Even though there were people all around you, you feel like you're alone. Sometimes I wonder if it'll make a difference if I just disappear. I seem so alone in this world that I wonder if I'm leaving imprints anywhere at all."

Instinctively, Mac reached over more and enveloped her in his arms. He held her, close, wanting to soothe her and stop her pain more than anything else. 

"You have marked my life," he told her honestly. For someone who appeared so confident on a daily basis, Stella Bonasera certainly sounded lost and unsure of herself. "And I do care about you, a lot."

He felt her nod against his shoulder and he tightened his hold on her. They sat, being close to each other, for a long time. Neither felt the need to speak. Occasionally, Mac would turn and kissed her curly strands and she would snuggle in closer to him.

"Thank you, Mac," she pulled back slightly after the long silence, and immediately, Mac felt the loss of heat between them, "for everything."

"You're welcome," he murmured.

He was mesmerized by her eyes, unwilling to pull away. He felt he could loose himself in them, now more than ever. Feelings he tried bottling up came back full force and he felt slightly light-headed.

Slowly, they were moving closer to one another. He could see clearly the tear treks on Stella's cheeks and feel her warm breaths on himself. His eyes were on her lips and she could feel her eyes on his.

Just inches before their lips grazed each others', reality came crashing in and Mac pulled away abruptly.

"Stella," he started to apologize, to restore the equilibrium they had before the interlude, but she placed a finger on his lips.

"I know," she stopped him softly. "Don't worry. I'll be better tomorrow and we don't have to mention what happened, or what almost happened."

Her words should make him feel better, knowing that he wasn't expected to react, to do more, to have guilt. Yet, they did nothing of that sort. Instead, he was frustration, and felt a pang of regret.

He sat beside her on her couch and watched as she pulled herself together. Stella Bonasera was an amazing woman. She had been there for him and probably knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. Her fiery personality and his subdued nature a perfect match for one another, like yin and yang, night and day. They complemented each other like two halves of a whole.

It was like the lock he had in his heart was suddenly released. Emotions were flooding in, and among them, most prominent of all, his intense feelings for Stella Bonasera. He wasn't ready to categorize them or give them a name yet, but he knew he would regret it for a long time if he let her think he thought their almost kiss was a mistake.

He would, actually, like to explore that side of a relationship with her and to feel her soft lips under his.

Gently, he put his hand under her chin so she had to look at him. Her eyes were clouded, and he frowned at her obvious state of distress.

"What if I want us to talk about it?"

She looked puzzled with a questioning look. Mac was almost certain that Stella had already convinced herself of his reluctance to pursue a relationship.

"Stella, listen to me," he didn't wait for her to respond; he just marched on. "I think there is something very, very meaningful and wonderful happening between us, and I think we owe it to ourselves to see what it is that we're feeling."

Mac winced inside. He sounded like he was making a proposal for the higher-ups on new funding instead of convincing the woman he was looking at that there was something worth pursuing in their relationship. He was not usually very poetic, but he could do better than that. He shook his head and tried to come up with something better when he spotted Stella's smile.

"Something wonderful?" she echoed his words. She hadn't given him a verbal response on his request to pursue a relationship, but he didn't need one. Her expressions, the twinkles in her eyes, told him her answer already.

This time, there was nothing pulling Mac back, and he leaned forward surely until their lips met. Once, twice; again, and again. Nothing urgent, but gentle pressure, soft, yet firm, until they needed up come up for air.

"Very wonderful," he murmured against her lips and they both smiled. "Something extremely wonderful."


End file.
